Pieces of You
by Mjrn
Summary: Zack x Cloud, post Advent Children. Cloud gets an order to deliver a mysterious package to a nonexistent address, setting off a series of bizarre events, one of which leads Cloud to believe that Zack may still be alive.
1. Chapter 1: To Cry Wolf

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Final Fantasy VII, the world, or the characters; Square Enix does.

**Author's Note:** Takes place a few years after Advent Children. Exact time is unknown. Also, Truce and Truce Canyon are not from Final Fantasy VII but from Chrono Trigger.

**Pieces of You**

**Chapter 1**

_To Cry Wolf_

Cloud had left Tifa's bar earlier than usual. There was a package that required delivery in a small town farther away from Edge than he normally agreed to drive, but something about the offer had piqued his interest and he'd agreed. Tifa, only too happy to have a willing Cloud, woke him up as soon as the sun had begun to peak through the tall buildings that made up the new city-and to ensure he was awake, she promptly had opened the window and a blinding stripe of the sun's rays had unlawfully bombarded Cloud's vision.

He was out the door before Denzel and Marlene were up and on his motorcycle, Fenrir, before Tifa had a chance to offer him breakfast. He figured if hunger overtook him, he could stop somewhere along the way; perhaps somewhere around Kalm, but this delivery seemed important. Whoever it was had paid extra for immediate delivery.

And besides, how often would he pass up a chance to visit the place where _he_ died? The place where _his_ Buster sword sat, lodged into dusty desert ground, rusted, and old? How much time had passed since then? Five years? Seven? Three? It seemed too long.

This was the place he liked to come whenever times got tough, whenever he needed time to think, time to plan out his next move, time to rethink his life and what he'd become. It was always barren, still, quiet, allowing him to endlessly drift from thought to thought without distraction, but it would never be long before Tifa would call on his PHS to remind him to head back. But not today. And he knew he couldn't stay there long, either. Just maybe a few minutes to gaze upon _his_ sword and remember _him_.

The sun was fully in the sky by the time he reached his first stop. He slowed Fenrir to a stop and just sat on his motorcycle, his hands gripping the handlebars firmly, his fingers sweaty underneath his leather gloves.

It didn't matter if an ache expanded in his chest every time he sat here, it didn't matter if he had to bow his head every time Zack's image flashed in his mind, it didn't matter if he found himself choking as the memory of Zack's voice washed over him. None of it mattered because he had spent the last few years, since the Geostigma incident, tempering his emotions until they no longer interfered with his ability to function in every day life.

But…when he came here…the feeling of Zack's presence all around him reminded him that he could still feel, that he had yet to rid himself of those emotions completely. More importantly, that he could still _love_. None of that mattered. He could feel here. He felt the need to visit it frequently to remind himself he was still alive—just like Tifa, just like Denzel, just like Marlene.

When he felt beads of sweat forming on his forehead, he knew he'd spent too much time in his own thoughts. He swiveled Fenrir around and charged toward his destination without any more reluctance. He wasn't sure exactly where he was delivering this particular package; but he had the address with him, and he would drive around until he found it. Normally, he never had much trouble, but he'd never been to this town before, this newer settlement, Truce, and he expected to drive a little more than usual looking for it. He could always ask, anyway. He had maps, too, but Truce was ever changing. It was too new.

He passed Kalm just after noon, but he didn't stop. It wasn't that he felt no hunger—because his stomach growled rather loudly—nor was it because he didn't have any money for it; he just didn't want to deal with it. He didn't want to stop.

Though he wasn't afraid of traveling in the dark—especially now that he didn't have to worry about anyone else getting hurt—he did not particularly want to be in that situation. He wanted to make it back to Tifa's bar at a good time, maybe have a drink or two and kick up his feet, but mainly for Denzel. Denzel wouldn't go to sleep until Cloud came back. It would make Tifa angry, but there wasn't anything Cloud could do about it. And it made him feel…something. Lighter. Warmer. Loved. But mainly needed, a feeling for which Cloud yearned.

He didn't run into many enemies on his way there, which he had thought was strange. A few Kalm Fangs here and there when he passed by Kalm and even fewer Prowlers as he moved on farther and farther from Midgar. He had expected these fights to slow him down, but he was making fairly good progress in light of their absence.

He had just passed by the Chocobo Farm when he realized why there weren't any enemies around, and by then, it was a little too late. A movement to his right caught his attention. He jerked his head in that direction, scanning the area with sharp eyes, frowning when nothing out of the ordinary could be seen. Another movement, this time on his other side, forced him to swerve from his path. Pulling out his First Tsurugi, he try to get a better look at the assaulting animal.

A wolf. A very _large_ wolf, with yellow fangs half the size of the Buster Sword and sky blue eyes. It snarled, racing along side Fenrir, keeping pace easily, as if it could run much faster upon necessity. It leapt over Cloud, crashing onto its front paws on his right, letting out a menacing growl.

He tightened his grip around the crimson hilt of his sword and tightened his jaw. This would be no easy battle, but why hadn't the animal attacked him yet?

It leapt overhead again, snapping at Cloud's form below, not being near enough to touch.

I won't attack until it makes the first move, he told himself, but if it doesn't knock this off soon, I'll have to do something. I can't lead it into Truce.

As the mountains came into view, a change came over the beast. His eyes turned green, his snarl increased in volume, and he jumped towards Fenrir. Without hesitating, he brought First Tsurugi up and swung at the airborn beast. The animal whined at contact, but the force at which they collided sent Fenrir toppling over. Cloud leapt off the bike, stumbling for a moment before regaining balance. It took a split second to realize that his sword was no longer in his hand and another split second to locate the beast—which came at him with a open maw.

Cloud sidestepped out of the way a second too late, but fast enough to save his arm from being torn off. The beast knocked him off his feet, and he rolled before standing up right and reaching for his sword. This time when the wolf came at him, he was ready.

He swung First Tsurugi at the beast, but it easily jumped out of the way. Cloud gritted his teeth, thinking of the materia he'd left back at Tifa's bar, that materia she'd insisted he take with him. He'd brushed it off, claiming he didn't need it. Fool.

Cloud twirled his sword in his hand, fixing his grip, before launching himself at the wolf. It met him half way, sinking its teeth into his right wrist. Groaning, he dropped the sword and collapsed to his knees, holding the bite. It hadn't ground its huge fangs into his arm, but the fangs had gone straight through.

The wolf took the opportunity to maul him again, but he rolled out of the way, grabbing First Tsurugi in his left hand. It came after him again, this time latching onto his shoulder. Holding back a cry, he bit his tongue and looked away, as if that would make it disappear. The metallic taste of blood flooded his mouth, but he didn't feel it. He only felt the pain searing through his shoulder blade as the wolf gnawed through the bones, holding Cloud down with its enormous paws.

Somewhere along the way, Cloud had let ago of his sword. Without thinking, he patted the ground blindly, fumbling to find that hilt. Finger wrapping around warm metal, he closed his eyes and summoned all his strength before jabbing the sword right through its chest.

The screech it gave off as it flung itself back was reassuring. Cloud opened his eyes in time to see it disappearing into the mountains—the mountains where he was now heading.

Cursing, Cloud rolled on his knees in an endeavor to stand up. It took several tries, but soon he was on his two feet and stumbling to Fenrir, which was lying on its side in a fit of steam. Massaging his shoulder where the beast had grabbed onto him, he stood in front of his bike, staring at it with a blank mind before everything registered—he was in the middle of nowhere and his bike probably wasn't going to work. Oh, and his shoulder and wrist were gushing out blood.

Using his good arm, he lifted Fenrir upright and swung a leg over. Successfully straddling the bike, he turned it on. It sputtered a few times before it fired up, _but it still worked_. Cloud wrinkled his nose when the smell of blood fused with the brown smoke his bike had jutted out when turning back on. He would need to find a repair service somewhere in Truce. Hopefully the place had one.

He headed toward the mountain pass, called Truce Canyon, his sword strapped on his back for easier access, his right hand gripping the handle hard enough to turn his knuckles white and his hand trembled at the strain, his left hand gripping his shoulder. How long until Truce? How long before he lost too much blood to concentrate?

When he and his comrades had fought against Sephiroth, he'd felt worse pains before. He could endure. He could. He had to.

Just as the sun began to set behind the sharp peaks of Truce's mountain range, the lights of the town came into view. Still thirty or so minutes off, but the fact that there was an end to this winding road gave Cloud a sense of calm. He would check himself into the inn right away and then do something about his wounds, and maybe then the world would stop spinning. And then he'd have to tell Tifa why he wasn't going to be home tonight. Truce was farther away than he thought. It didn't surprise him, though, that he hadn't once thought of his hunger…of course, until he saw the lights. That would be something he would do right away. Perhaps, the lack of food, water, and blood were all to blame for his luckless state.

But it would all be taken care of as soon when he got there.

That is, if he got there at all.

Fenrir gave a loud guttural roar before it sputtered and died, trembling underneath Cloud. And then it flung him over the handle bars as it skidded to a halt.

Cloud crashed into a pointy ledge and let out a cry as he toppled to the stony ground. The world spun faster and he clamped his eyes shut, hoping it would ease after a minute or two. His head throbbed, threatening to squeeze the life out of his brain, and he threw his hands up to massage his temples. Not now, not now, not now! he chanted in his head over and over again. Not a good time. Just a little while more. Must get into town. Must get there.

He dared himself to open his eyes, and when he did, all he saw was blood. Get up, Cloud, he told himself. Just get up.

He grabbed onto a natural handhold on the side of the mountain and pulled himself up with his good arm. Stupid Fenrir. Did it just have to die right here? Couldn't it have waited a little while longer? Just a little bit?

He dragged his feet toward the bike, and when he stood before it, he bent down and straightened it. He wasn't just about to leave it there. He needed to get it to town to get it repaired. The damn repair shop had better not be closed by the time he arrived there, otherwise he was going to find the owner's house and force him to fix it right then and there. He needed to get back before Tifa died of worry—and now he definitely couldn't tell her what happened.

Thrusting the bike forward with all his might, he walked it down the path towards the lights of town, still vague as the orange light of the sun splashed across the canyon.

Just a little longer. Just a little longer.

The sun had set by the time he passed through the gates of Truce, but the lights in some of the stores were still on, suggesting that it was not yet passed six. There was still a chance the repair shop was open. He didn't care how much they charged him—he was just about willing to pay every piece of gil he had to fix Fenrir and get home. The delivery would just have to wait until tomorrow morning.

He found the repair shop just outside the town square. It was obvious it was open because the two garage doors were gaping open and the lights burned brightly overhead. Cloud pushed the bike forward into the light and stopped.

There was one man whose head was tucked underneath the hood of a car, his oil blackened fingers crawling along the edge for a tool that wasn't there. When they reached the end of the car and he turned his gaze up to find it, he saw Cloud and stuck his head out and hollered to the guy behind the counter before stalking off into the back. Cloud kicked the stand on his bike and stepped toward the counter.

The black-haired boy, probably around the age of fourteen, shrugged. "Sorry about that," he told Cloud. "I don't know what's his problem. He normally likes to chat with customers, but, I guess, he's been acting weird all day—he got angry this morning because the landlord stopped by and—"

"How soon can you fix my bike?"

The boy peered around Cloud's slim form at the bike and made a face. "I dunno. If Boss was here, he'd give you a good estimate, but I don't know anything about bikes."

Cloud drummed his fingers across the chipped wooden counter as he leaned his body into it.

The boy winced. "You all right?"

"I've been better," he said, shrugging his good shoulder and nodding to his bike. "I need my bike fixed by tomorrow."

The boy cocked his head to one side, his eyes narrowing. "Hmm, I don't know about that."

"Well, what do you know about?"

The boy rolled his eyes. "Look, we're the only repair service in Truce. How 'bout you leave your motorcycle here overnight, Boss'll take a look at it sometime tonight before he goes home, and you can haggle with him in the morning? It'll be better than standing here arguing with me when your arm's all messed up. I can't do anything I'm not already doing."

"Let me talk to your boss."

The boy shook his head. "I don't know where he went."

Brat. "All right, how much do you think it will cost?" Cloud asked, grinding his teeth together as ribbons of pain ran up and down his arm. This had been happening sporadically the entire way, warning him that he'd better do something quick before the damage became irreversible.

The boy looked up into Cloud's blue eyes, dull from the day's journey, and scratched his chin. "Hmm, how much you got?"

Cloud pushed off from the counter, tossing the bike key to the boy. "I'll be here bright and early to talk to your boss; hopefully he has more of an idea of what's going on that you do," he murmured as he exited the shop. How infuriating. But it couldn't be helped. He expected as much. Hopefully the fool and his boss were competent enough to care for Fenrir, but now he had to be competent enough to take care of himself.

He found the inn not far away from the repair shop, and walked in. A few visitors were at tables eating dinner when he entered. A hush fell across the room and all eyes followed him as he steadily made his way to the woman behind the counter. He paced himself, holding himself straight, pretending as if he didn't feel he was on the verge of a painful death, and maintained eye contact with the woman.

She paled as he stepped into the light. "Are you a-all right?"

He nodded. "I just need a room and a meal."

Her eyes widened. "S-sure. Are you positive you don't need—"

"Just a room and a meal."

She nodded, fumbling for the keys to one of her rooms. "That'll be a hundred gil for the night, and a hundred and forty gil for dinner and breakfast tomorrow morning."

He nodded, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. After extracting the bills, he snapped his wallet shut, flung it into his pocket, and handed her the money. "Here."

"Upstairs, second room to the right. I'll have dinner delivered to your room in an hour. And if you want your clothes washed, leave them in a bag outside your door. I'll have them washed and dried by the time you wake up."

He took the key and headed for the stairs. "There's…there's a healer in town named Kirin…do..." she started after him.

He ignored her and went upstairs, ignoring his legs which groaned in protest.

After tossing the small box onto the bed and glaring at it (it turned out to be more trouble than it ought to have been), he stripped down, stuffing his clothes into a bag and slipping them outside, and filled up the water in the bathtub. Taking out the first aid kit from underneath the sink, he sifted through it to find suturing wire, a needle, an antiseptic, and gauze wrap and placed them on the sink. After cleaning up in the bathtub the best he could, the water having immediately turned red, he toweled off and rummaged through his bag for spare clothes. And then his PHS rang.

He gazed at the phone for some time before answering. Cradling it between his cheek and good shoulder, he went back into the bathroom to stitch up his shoulder. "Cloud, here."

"Cloud? Where are you?" It was Tifa.

"Truce." He carefully measured the length of the wire and cut the edge and then prepared the needle.

"Did you deliver the package?"

"No. Tomorrow."

"You must have arrived late. It took you longer than I expected. Denzel and Marlene—"

"I'll call you back, I'm a little busy." He snapped the phone shut and concentrated on his sutures.

/ - / - / - / - / - /

When Cloud woke up the next morning, it was well after dawn. The sun beamed through the windows and streamed down onto his bed. Stupid him, he thought, he'd chosen to sleep on the bed closest to the window. Groggy, he turned his face away and kept his eyes closed, dreading the moment he needed to get up. He should have been up already, but he figured the bike wasn't fixed yet. It was useless.

But the guilt had already settled in. He wouldn't fall back to sleep.

Groaning, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. They were a bit stiff from all the walking, but they felt good compared to the fiery ache that plagued his shoulder. He rolled his shoulders, tightening his jaw to stifle any type of noise that might escape from his throat as he did so, and relaxed when he found that the pain was only mild. His mako infused body did have its advantages now and then. Knowing that the drive home wasn't going to be so bad, he got up and walked lightly to the bathroom.

Washing his face and hands, he examined his reflection in the mirror. The laceration on his shoulder looked considerably better than it had last night, but he decided to add a bit more antiseptic anyway. And the gash on his wrist was all but gone, leaving a white puffy scar in its wake. His face, though untouched by the beast, looked tired. He had bags under his eyes as if he hadn't slept much the night before, but he had—his dreams had just been riddled with memories of Zack. One _particular_ memory repeatedly, to be exact. Except the last dream was good. It was of the last night before the Nibelheim incident, where Cloud and Zack had spent a good portion of the night talking, until Sephiroth told them to go to bed and shut up.

He left the inn, his pack, sword, and package in hand, and crossed the square.

It was cool here in the mountain town. The deep blue sky stretched out beyond the hills encasing Truce with not a cloud in sight. A bit of frost covered the red tiled roofs of the shops around the square and a thin sheen of ice covered the floor. It was getting too close to winter. The great thing about Midgar was that its weather was uncorrupted by the seasons.

But Cloud almost missed this weather. It reminded him of Nibelheim and of his mother. During the winter, she made a mean beef stew that Cloud would have given almost anything just to taste one more time. He tried to keep his mother from his mind, which was why Cloud remained in the city rather than moving into a town like this. At least Midgar, or the Edge more specifically, was nothing like Nibelheim. His mother rarely invaded his thoughts.

He hugged himself as a frosty wind shifted through the trees lining the square. He should have brought a sweater. It was going to be a bitch riding Fenrir out of here with nothing but a sleeveless shirt and thin pants on.

The garage was already open and the smell of coffee and grease filled his nostrils as he strode in. His stomach grumbled and reminded him he'd need to get something to eat before he headed out again. No more of yesterday's events.

"Whoa, you look way better."

Cloud jolted in surprise and looked around for the boy. He was walking in from the square behind Cloud carrying a pink box of doughnuts with him. And he was bundled up in a very warm looking coat.

"Where's your boss?"

The boy dropped the doughnuts on the table. "He's sleeping. But don't worry. He fixed your bike last night."

Cloud lifted an eyebrow in question.

"Yep. He felt sorry for you, so he fixed it up. But it'll cost ya. He said he expects to be well paid."

Cloud peered over his shoulder at Fenrir. It looked as if it hadn't even been moved from the spot he'd left it in. "Did he really fix it?"

He nodded. "Yep. Fire her up." The boy handed him the key expectantly.

Cloud approached it warily and then straddled it, putting the key in and turning on the ignition. Fenrir fired up immediately, the roar of the engine comforting, the tremble relaxing. He turned it off and circled the bike, taking in the shiny black surface and examining the oil tank, the exhaust pipe, the engine, everything. Everything was in prime condition as far as he was concerned.

He shrugged and returned to the counter.

"How much is your boss asking for?"

The boy tilted his chin upwards with a smug smile and replied, "Oh, about two thousand gil."

"Two thousand? No." He shouldn't have left the bike here.

"He worked on it all night. That's a fair deal."

"I won't pay anymore than a thousand." And even that was too much in his book. He was expecting five hundred gil or something.

"You're lucky we had all the parts for that bike! They're rare, you know! He replaced the tires and—"

"All right, whatever." He took out his wallet and counted the bills.

The boy rocked on his heels, his hands stuffed in his back pocket. He added another fifty gil and when the boy looked up at him questioningly, he explained, "Do you know where I can find a Rocktree Lane?"

The boy wrinkled his face in thought for a second before he replied. "What city?"

"This one."

"Nope. No such thing."

Cloud frowned. "Let me talk to your superior."

The boy pouted, his hands on his hips. "I know every street in this town. You have Apple Berry Boulevard, Sunny Cove, Drapple Lane, Truce—"

"I have a package to be delivered to 7132 Rocktree Lane. Here in Truce." He held up the package that he had stored under his arm and showed the boy the address.

The raven-haired kid only shook his head. "No, there's no place here by that address."

"But—"

The boy reached underneath the desk and promptly brought out a map. "This is the most recent map of Truce. I'll show you." He splayed it out over the table for Cloud to skim over and waited.

Cloud stepped back with a frown.

"Sorry. You'll just have to send it back to the return address."

"Damn." How could that be? He drove all the way over here to deliver it and there wasn't even a place to deliver it _to_. "Damn."

The boy scratched his head.

Cloud brushed blond strands out of his face and backed away. "All right, then. Thanks for the information, kid."

He turned to his bike and got on.

The boy behind the counter skirted it and ran towards him. "Wait!" he shouted over the roar of the engine. "Here!" He handed back a few bills.

Cloud took them out of the boy's small hands with a scowl. "What's this for?"

"He said to charge you for a thousand gil. Sorry."

Cloud gave him a stern look and then sighed, handing the bills back over. "Keep it." And he drove away.


	2. Chapter 2: Set Apart

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Final Fantasy VII, the world, or its characters; Square Enix does.

**Pieces of You**

**Chapter 2**

_Set Apart_

By the time Cloud returned to Tifa's bar, it was already sunset. Orange light streamed across the darkening sky and cast elongated shadows across the cooling city. The crowd in the city's center, where the Meteor monument stood proudly, was beginning to thin, citizens' faces worn and tired from the long day. Cloud shuddered as he slowed Fenrir to a stop—he hadn't any warm clothes and it is was cool now that the sun no longer bore into his skin. Parking the bike in the garage, he entered the bar through the garage door.

The bar was still a little slow, but there were a few patrons sitting at the tables, smoking and drinking mainly by themselves. Tifa was behind the counter finishing up the last glass of a row. She looked up and narrowed her eyes. "Where were you?"

He shrugged. "Truce is farther than I thought."

"Where'd you get those scratches?" she asked, further narrowing her eyes and pointing to his bare arm.

He looked down and saw faint white traces of scratches. "Fenrir skidded out."

She paused, several emotions flashing across her face—worry, fear, anger, sadness. She placed the glass firmly on the shelf before beckoning him over. "Did you at least clean everything?"

"Last night, on the phone." He slipped onto a red vinyl stool before pulling away the collar of his shirt to display the bite on his shoulder. Though it was still an open wound, it was starting to look well on its way to healing, though his messy job of sutures made it look worse.

Tifa put her hands on her hips. "Cloud! How? That couldn't be from Fenrir!"

He shook his head and let go of his collar, adjusting his shirt. "It's not. I got attacked by a monster on the way there."

Tifa tapped her foot. "I doubt any Kalm Fangs could have done that."

He rolled his shoulders. "I didn't see very many of them, so I imagine the monster I ran into was feeding off them."

"What was it?"

"I have no idea. It looked like a wolf, but it was enormous. And it was fast—it could easily outrun Fenrir."

"But…? Well…what…? I've never heard of any exceptionally large wolves on this continent."

"Same here. I wonder if I could get someone to check it out for me?"

"Why don't we ask Reno or Rude? I'm sure they wouldn't mind. They stop by every once in a while for a drink, though I haven't seen them lately." Tifa frowned, but she returned to her place behind the bar and took out a glass. "Do you want something to drink before I clean up your injuries?"

"Tifa, I—"

"—didn't do a good enough job. So something to drink?"

He nodded. "All right. I'll just take a beer."

She rolled her eyes and grabbed a beer from underneath the counter. "So, other than being attacked by a huge wolf, how was your trip?"

He took the beer from her and took a sip, closing his eyes. "I lost about two thousand gil to fix Fenrir—"

"—What happened?"

"It skidded out when the wolf attacked. I'm not sure what happened, but the engine died once I got into Truce Canyon. The mechanic fixed it overnight and the brat who was behind the counter charged me too much."

"And you gave it to him anyway?" She lifted an eyebrow at him, a small smile ghosting across pale lips. He had a soft spot, whether or not he wanted to admit it.

Cloud brushed it off with a wave of his hand before taking another sip. "Anyway, I didn't deliver the package after all."

Her eyes widened, and she paused in her task of transporting the dried mugs to the cupboard. "Why not?"

He shook his head. "It doesn't exist, apparently."

"How does it not exist? I mean…well, maybe they got the wrong address? Hmm, did you see what the return address was? Let me see it."

Cloud nodded toward the garage. "It's in the garage still. I didn't bother—"

"Cloud!"

He had just about enough time to turn before a small brunette nearly pummeled him over.

"Cloud, you're back! Why didn't you tell us?"

"Marlene! He's injured! Don't—"

"No, it's all right," Cloud murmured and returned the hug.

She immediately pushed him away, her almond brown eyes filled with worry. "Injured? Cloud, what happened? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he told her and spread his arms wide, modeling his well covered body to her. "Alive and well," he added shooting a dark look at Tifa, who rolled her eyes and turned away.

"I'm going to get that package. Cloud, stay and watch the bar."

The little girl scrunched her face up in doubt but then shrugged and flung herself on him once more.

Though she'd gotten older within the past few years, she was still tiny and short enough to bury her face in his shirt. He let go of her and she slowly backed away. "Where's Denzel?" he asked, looking around for Denzel. Though the boy was hardly as energetic and positive as Marlene, he normally came to greet Cloud.

Marlene looked behind her. "Oh, well, I thought…he was just behind me. Denzel!" she called, heading for the hallway. "Denzel! Cloud's back!" She stood at the base of the stairs, waiting for Denzel to come thundering down, but he didn't. "Where are you, Denzel?" She turned back and shrugged.

"When Tifa gets back, we'll look for him," Cloud assured her.

"I'm back, and you're not looking for Denzel. First we're going to do a better job stitching up your shoulder—"

"—but Cloud said he was fine." Marlene pouted.

"I _am_ fine." Another dark look. "Come on, Marlene, let's go get Denzel. Maybe we'll all get something to eat to bring back to Tifa?" he added more for Tifa's forgiveness than as a suggestion. Tifa grunted and decidedly chose to ignore him while she studied the package.

/ - / - / - / - / - /

Cloud had been sorting through messages on his voicemail and browsing through his list of deliveries when Tifa called to him. He first ignored her, figuring she was calling him down to interrogate him again—there wasn't anything he hadn't said already about the attack by Truce Canyon—but she called him again. "Cloud Strife! Stop keeping your guests waiting!"

"My guests?" he repeated, frowning. Wondering who his guests might be and what they might want from him, at this time of night, anyway, he snapped his phone shut and left his office, carrying a glass of water with him. He passed Denzel and Marlene's room, where they were whispering to each other until he visibly passed. Then a heavy silence ensued until he was well down the stairs.

"What ya got?"

Cloud frowned as stopped on the last step, Reno's voice carrying to his ears loudly.

"You can read," bristled Tifa. "Anything you see up here, I've got."

"Give me something hard."

Cloud could tell that Tifa rolled her eyes, and so he chose that moment to walk out into the scene.

Reno and Rude sat at the counter—Rude sitting up straight and on the edge of his stool while Reno was slouching over a glass dish full of peanuts. Rude turned to Cloud, the emotions in his eyes hidden by dark sunglasses. "Have a minute?"

"Or two for old time's sake?" added Reno, turning to get a better look at Cloud.

Cloud shrugged. "What do you want?"

"Do we need to want something from you to say hi?"

Cloud narrowed his eyes. "Is that supposed to be a joke?"

Reno sighed. "All right, so the President wants to hire you."

"Again? What for?" That was Tifa. She unconsciously handed the redhead a mug full of pale ale. Her questions, however, were aimed at Rude.

Reno answered anyway with a one shouldered shrug. "People in Truce Canyon have been—"

"A monster there. A wolf," Cloud finished, swinging his leg across the chair and bending over his drink Tifa had handed him silently without any intention of drinking it.

"How'd you know?"

"I was delivering something. I got attacked." He reached up to his shoulder and pulled back the collar. "Took a chunk out of my shoulder." With that said, he let go of the collar almost immediately after uncovering it and peered at them from over his shoulder. "What do you expect me to do about it?"

"Check it out. Defeat it. Whatever." He took a sip of his drink and then spit it out. "What the fuck? This is—"

She shrugged. "You left it up to me." Tifa, in Cloud's _personal_ opinion, looked a little too smug.

"I'll take whiskey. Or…to be more specific…Red Label…or do I need to know the bar code on the back, too?" Reno glared.

Tifa fluffed her hair. "If you can guess right, then I won't charge you for the ale."

"What?"

"What do you know about the wolf so far?" asked Cloud, lifting an eyebrow in question.

"'S been attacking lots of people there. Killed three so far, two teenagers and a kid," Reno muttered, straightening his tie.

"It didn't seem like it was any immediate danger over there. Everyone there seemed relatively normal. I was there today."

"What a coincidence," said Reno unconvincingly.

"I'm not fit enough to kill it," Cloud admitted, turning his gaze away. "The wolf is too fast, too strong, too big."

"When has that stopped you?"

Tifa straightened up, her pride on display for everyone to see. "Cloud, you just weren't in any position to be fighting! You were riding on Fenrir, and he took you by surprise. If you'd been on even ground and expecting him, you could defeat it. _We_ could defeat it," she amended quietly.

"Yeah," continued Reno. "Gather up your gang or whatever and kick some ass. Save the people you fought so hard to save the last two times."

"Why me? Don't you want to 'rebuild Shinra'? If you want to prove that Shinra's worthy of being in any position of authority, why don't _you_ do something for the people for once?"

"We can't. You're the strongest one we've got. If that thing fazed you, think what it could do to us. At least you came home alive, and next time you'll have a bunch of people here to help."

"That is if they want to help."

"We do!"

Tifa's intent gaze made Cloud stand up. "What do I get in return?"

/ - / - / - / - / - /

**Author's Note:** Well, this was short!

Please tell me what you think so far! I'm also open to suggestions and/or constructive criticism, so don't be shy!


	3. Chapter 3: A Peek Inside

**Disclaimer:** I do not own nor do I profit from anything that has to do with the characters and world of Final Fantasy VII; Square Enix owns the rights to them.

**Pieces of You**

**Chapter 3**

_A Peak Inside_

The days since Cloud's return were much calmer, and Tifa appreciated it. Though he was as distant as ever, he still spent time with Denzel and Marlene and offered minimal conversation at breakfast. Considering him, that was all she could ever ask for. He was home and took responsibility for himself as well as his family.

Cloud had gone out early to complete a few deliveries before noon so he could be back in time to meet with the gang as they had planned on arriving sometime in the afternoon. Of course, coming from all different corners of Gaia, they were traveling separately and would arrive at different times. But the important thing, Tifa thought, was that they were coming; that they'd all jumped to their call and offered whatever support they could even if they couldn't directly get involved.

The mornings were slow in her bar. She'd sent Marlene and Denzel to school before opening up the bar and had planned on getting the icky business side of owning a bar done before she had any customers. She had pulled up a stool with a glass of cool water and took out some paperwork. When Cloud's business was slow, she'd get him to go over the numbers, but his business had taken off again after the disaster with the remnants had taken hold of Edge.

She only managed a few calculation before the bell she'd hung on her door chimed at the presence of a customer. She looked up from her paperwork and smiled at the young man. He wasn't a memorable kid, with a round face and brown hair, but he carried a package with him. He handed it to her. "Um, I need this delivered. Is this where I…?"

Tifa stood up. "Oh, yes, of course." She motioned for him to step into the room further and skirted the bar. "I need you to fill out this delivery sheet, and then it's all settled."

He nodded unsurely and then hesitantly stepped up to the bar.

"You can fill out the destination here," she said pointing to the line, "and then while you're doing that, why don't you tell me whether you want standard or express delivery?"

The boy bent down and pulled out a scrunched up paper from his pocket and flattened it out on the counter to copy down the address. "Express, please."

"Okay, that'll be forty-five gil."

Once he was done filling out the address, he handed her the slip with the exact change and pulled back from the bar. "Thanks," he murmured and darted out of the door.

Tifa shook her head in dismay at the skittishness the boy expressed and put the change away, then opened up her computer to check to get an exact reading of where this might be delivered so Cloud wouldn't waste his time anymore. She peered down at the address scribbled on the slip.

7132 Rocktree Lane, Truce.

Before she had a chance to yell out, "Wait!" Cloud burst through the door. She looked up started and then pointed to the door. "That kid just sent another Rocktree--" and Cloud was out the door again without a word.

Debating whether to follow him out or not, she ultimately she flung herself out the door but remained in front of the bar. Gazing down the street, Tifa spotted Cloud stopping the boy just a ways off on the opposite sidewalk. She frowned as the boy cowered before Cloud's powerful frame. When would he realize his tactics instilled fear and not respect?

In a few short minutes, Cloud wandered back to Tifa, who was shaking her head at him. "Well, what happened?" she asked, stepping inside the bar behind the blond.

He collapsed on the seat and shook his head. "He said some faceless guy asked him to send it for him. Paid him pretty good, I'm guessing."

Tifa's brow furrowed as she processed this new information. She crossed the room and dropped onto a vinyl stool beside her, asking, "Why would someone pay someone else to deliver a package to another delivery service to a nonexistent address? It seems a little fishy to me." She paused, and then thought about the skittishness the boy expressed when he'd entered the bar. "Do you think he'd been intimidated?"

"He was paid pretty well. That's incentive enough for a youth, don't you think? Why add on a threat?" They both thought it over before Cloud followed up with, "I guess he might have expected the boy to take the money and run. But what's so important that the package gets delivered that he can't deliver it himself?"

She thought back to the paranoia that had plagued Midgar under the oppressive arrogance the Shinra company had displayed only a few years ago, and how many ways AVALANCHE had gone about terrorizing the company. "You don't think it could be like a bomb or anything, do you?"

Both of their hardened gazes zeroed in on the brown package sitting up on the counter only a few spaces away from them. And then they instantly dismissed the thought. "The other one hadn't exploded after an entire day of disaster," Cloud assured her. "Besides, who'd want to blow up--"

A period of pensive silence washed over them as they contemplated the meaning behind this package ordeal. It wasn't a pressing threat, but it _was _a little ridiculous. Cloud had wasted an entire two days in an endeavor to safely transport the damn thing, and in doing so, he'd been attacked.

"Maybe it's Shinra." Before Cloud had a chance to argue, she said, "Look, right after you came back from being attacked by the wolf, Reno and Rude came over to the bar asking you to do something about it. Maybe they wanted to get you involved and they knew you'd do nothing unless it directly imposed itself upon you."

"It does sound sneaky like them."

Tifa pushed off from the counter and grabbed the package. "I know it's against the principles of any delivery service, but maybe we should open it. Especially if it was a ploy to get you involved, we should confirm it." She added when Cloud didn't move, "There might be a note to the addressee and then we could look him up."

He nodded faintly, blond spikes falling across his creased forehead, and he held out his hands. "I'll open it…just in case." Tifa had the slightest suspicion that it wasn't quite for safety precautions that he wanted to open it. His demeanor had changed as he reached out for the box, his facial expression did not illustrate the same curiosity as Tifa's. Was it anticipation that she saw in his features?

By the time he'd taken the box from her hands, he charged out of the door as if she'd seize it from his hands and didn't look once behind him. She shook her head, he was certainly full of mysteries.

Cloud didn't come back out for a while, so she finished up her business and waited for her guests to arrive.

Before they did, however, Cloud stormed down the stairs and flew out the door without so much as a glance at Tifa's shocked expression. She stared at the swinging door of her bar and mutely debated whether she should go after him or not. She heard the roar of Fenrir's engine, which was the deciding factor that it was too late, and felt her heart sink.

What happened?

And why hadn't Cloud stopped to talk to her about it?

Of course, Cloud had always been withdrawn in this matter, never giving more than necessary, but they'd been working on his lone-wolf nature for the past few years. She had come to accept that he wouldn't share everything with her, but he'd also come to trust Tifa's judgment and aid.

What was in the package that sent him off in a hurry?

Tifa looked around her empty bar and decided to check it out herself, despite Cloud's trust issues. She would just take a look, that was all. Besides, if it was a threat and he went off by himself to take it down, then maybe…maybe he needed her help, too, and was too stubborn to ask for it.

She stole up the stairs, checking over her shoulder as if Cloud would come barging back in, and crossed the hall to his cluttered office. It looked like it always did, messy with papers scattered everywhere and boxes piled in every corner. His seat was overturned, however, and the mysterious box was opened, the white stuffing spilling out over the paperwork. She frowned and peered over the edge into the box.

It was a rather large box that was seemingly filled with only stuffing, but then a small, shiny object concealed slightly behind the box caught her interest. And Tifa had no idea what to make of what she saw before her.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So I had said this chapter was going to be a long one, and I was wrong. I guess you don't have any reason to trust me when I say the next chapter will be longer, but I'll say it anyway. The next chapter will be longer.

Explanation:

I had originally combined this and Chapter 4, but as I was going over it, I realized that this piece really didn't belong in the chapter, so I separated them.

The next chapter is long and nearly done, but before I finish it, I have to finish the next chapter of _What They Leave Behind _and study for my midterm on Tues. I should have Chapter 4 out within the week, though, so be expecting it! It's an apology for this chapter being so short.

Thank you all for reviewing and reading and especially your patience!


	4. Chapter 4: Of Shadows and Memories

**Pieces of You**

**Chapter 4**

_- Of Shadows and Memories -_

_A shock of red swirling to his right............_

_A glimmer of gold..........._

_They're both gone in an instant._

_But the scent of human blood, warm and oozing from an open wound...it's too strong to resist. _

_Taut muscles contract and constrict with each movement, his massive paws lightly grazing the forest floor before launching him back into the air just as lightly as he landed._

_Somewhere in the back of his mind, he tells himself no. To stop. To resist._

_But the blood...he dreams of rivers of blood. Of trees with human flesh drenched in blood dripping from the branches. Always warm. Yes, warm. And fresh. Must be fresh._

_His own blood thunders in his ears just as the waterfalls in his dreams do. His pulse quickens with each yard breezes by, as he draws closer and closer to the fresh meat, and he pauses when he gathers a whiff of more meat. Not nearly as meaty and old. Not human._

No matter,_ he thinks to himself._ It's old and weak. It'll be easy to dispose of and then I can eat its meat master.

_He continues toward the scent. Not very far now. He could travel faster if not for the density of the trees. Nobody this deep in the forest would be missed, he's sure. No questions asked. So it is the perfect hunting grounds._

_He leaps over a fallen log, easily and silently. As they come into his sight, he slows to a near stop, crouching down and hiding among the thick brush. There's the flashing red, the shiny gold, the meat's dog. It pauses, lifts it nose into the air as if catching his scent. Doesn't matter, he's faster than the meat's domesticized creature, but he wants a head start, anyway._

_He vaults out of the bushes, barraging himself onto his prey. The dog hops out of the way a split second before contact, but he catches the tiniest piece of flesh from the tail._

_He spits it out and gazes around. There's the meat, waving a golden...meat call it something...it's not a firestick...yes, it's a gun. It's waving a gun. It won't hurt him, though. It'll not pass through his thick skin._

_The red-clad meat fires and disappears in a flurry of scarlet cloth. It's fast, but its speed could never match his. He turns and lunges at the red cloth just as the meat materializes. He digs his teeth into the limb gripping the gold piece. Blood oozes onto his tongue and there's a moment where everything goes blank, but it passes quickly, disintegrated by pain arcing up his spine from his tail. _

_He whips his tail around, thrusting the mangy dog toward a tree across the clearing, grinding his teeth into the meat's bone. It doesn't cry out, like they normally do. It lifts another shiny piece and fires it into his face. It fazes him as it digs into his face and meets his iron cheek bone._

_He leaps back with a vicious shake of his head. He hadn't seen that coming. It just made this meat even more promising when he finally put it down._

_The dog and the meat are now prepared for a new attack. The dog is in front and the meat is on the other side, set strategically as if they are accustomed to more party members. They aren't threatening, just the two of them._

_He swirls around, propelling his tail around to keep the dog at bay while he prepares to leap over the meat's head. If the meat can combat him just as that other one on that wheeled device the other day, then he has to use speed as his advantage. He jumps and dives around, drawing from his endless reservoirs of energy to tire the prey out, but at some point the meat fire endlessly at his face. It knows that his weakness is his face now._

_It reaches its dog and throws out his thread-bare cloth to cover the animal. Then, as a crimson cloud, they vanish in the sky above without a trace, leaving him befuddled. Standing in the clearing, his blood begins to cool, his heart stop threatening to explode within his chest. And just before he's entirely calm, he calls up that image of that elusive, yet highly tangible and formidable blond who'd successfully challenged him. His blood began to boil again, the hunger calling him, the blond threatening him._

* * *

Cloud stared at the ruins of Midgar, where there was a decisive line dividing the old Midgar to the new Edge. He'd driven directly from the bar—more sped—out of the city. He needed the fresher air, the open skies that Aerith spent so many years of her life loving. He needed to get away from the bar, away from others. He wanted to be alone. If he couldn't be with _him_, then he didn't want to be with anyone. Right now. Anyway.

Wasn't the rusted Buster sword enough of a reminder of all that had transpired in the past years? Did he need another reminder of him, so far removed from him? At this point, where he stood on the path of life, there was absolutely nothing he could do to change anything. All he could do was move on, wasn't that what Tifa was always saying?

But something was always there, anchoring him to that elusive past, the one that only moments it seemed but was so ingrained in his mind. Would anyone ever recreate that bond he'd forged with _him_? And if not, what could ever replace that black hole toiling in his heart, never leaving but sucking up all his happiness?

Cloud sighed. He'd thought he'd gotten past this. He'd accepted the Nibelheim incident, the tragic end of _his_ life, the harsh reality of Aerith's death. He's put all that behind him! He'd been through the worst of it, he'd thought. But what was this? This package hails him with memory after memory of all those he'd tried to forget, to run away from, to leave behind in a heap of rubble, buried half deep in the turning sand of the desert. Maybe that was the problem after all. He needed to get rid of all evidence that any of it ever happened.

No, that wouldn't do, either. It hadn't worked so far; putting a little bit more effort into the feat wouldn't make it any more attainable.

Cloud's Mako-infused eyes roved over the dunes, the empty gray sky, and then finally rested on the rusty old sword. He never deserved to wield it. Ever. He should have left it right here where _he_ died—for _him_, nonetheless. He'd owed _him_ the whole world, and he'd practically robbed the grave. The sword meant so much to _him_.

Growling in frustration, he kicked over the sword. How did it matter, anyway? Zack was still dead. Nothing would change. But what the _fuck_ was up with this person? Sending shit that way. It had to have been meant for him. It was too much of a benign object to mean anything to anyone else. Was it Shinra, playing games with him again? Toying with him, manipulating him? Was it their way of driving him to encounter that damnable wolf?

Well, they'd stepped too far over the line this time. Way too fucking far. He'd kill them all, if that was what it took to end this seemingless endless struggle between the two parties. Shinra always seemed to _need_ his help, but then the damned fool of a president would find ways to ruin ever other aspect of his life.

He paused in his musings of tearing apart Rufus Shinra, limb by limb and wondered how Rufus would even know about it.

Maybe he was just overreacting. Perhaps someone was just sending it to a friend as a simple gift of friendship. It wasn't like it was something _special_. It came a dime a dozen. No, even more than that! It was just some stupid...

Cloud thought back to the moment, when he'd opened the box and peered at the white stuffing. He'd dug around for something. It had been rather light—and such a big box! And for what? Just a stupid pair of socks and a ring. But not just any pair of socks...not just any ring. Especially not just any ring.

He felt the stab dig straight back into the healing wound, twisting and twisting until the memories came flooding back. He'd remembered that night, so many years ago. It was painful to open up that door again and peer into the fading visages of a life he could no longer possess as he'd once been able to. He ached to go back into the moment, however embarrassing. However painful. It had been a _perfect_ night. So perfect, nothing would ever equal it ever again...

* * *

_Years ago..._

It was raining. On normal occasions, he loved the rain, enjoyed the feeling of rain washing away all the old residue and bringing in the new world, healing it in ways that only the lifestream could. But today was different. He had wanted it to be dry outside.

It was inevitable that the air outside would be cold and damp, and he'd have to wrap himself in a thick coat he didn't own to keep himself from freezing to death, but at least he wouldn't be wet at the same time.

But the angry black stormheads had rolled in sometime during the afternoon, when he'd been making his rounds around Midgar where the plate covered the sky from view. He'd only noticed the rain when he'd gotten back to his dorm and his roommate had kept the window wide open, letting the cold wind whoosh in—and not only that, but also let the wind drag in rain all over Cloud's bed, which was closest to the window.

He'd muttered a "Thanks a lot," before he cleaned himself up for the evening. He hadn't been sure how it would end up, but he'd wanted to be prepared, even if he felt anxious.

Now that he was entirely ready to leave his dorm, he knelt beside his bed and grabbed the small box wrapped in shiny wrapping paper. He felt foolish for having gotten Zack Fair a gift for the holidays, but it had been a tradition back home that he'd always shared with, if no one else, his mother. He hadn't had any real friends with whom to extend this tradition, until recently. But he wasn't quite sure how Zack Fair would receive it.

They're _just_ socks, he told himself. They were the safe way to go; it was a gift to show he was thinking about him this holiday but it wasn't pricey or extravagant enough to say, "I'm so in love with you, I've been waiting months for you to swoop down and kiss me hard." Especially because he had no idea how _that_ would be received, either. It was a neutral course. Something thoughtful that could be played down easily if necessary. It was safe.

As he got out of the door, wrapped in a shabby sweater, carrying the box, it dawned on him that he might look very stupid if he showed up at Zack's room and he had friends over or a girl over or wasn't even there. Cloud knew that Zack—or anyone outside Nibelheim—did not celebrate it the way he was used to, but...he wanted to do this.

Only that thought could pick up his feet and move him forward to his ultimate goal: Zack Fair's apartments. He wouldn't expect to stay or even to come in. He was only going to drop off the winter solstice gift, and if Zack invited him in the apartment for something more, then, and only then, he'd do it. And he wouldn't fret if Zack didn't invite him inside. Or if Zack wasn't there. Or if Zack had other people over and told him to go away. Or if Zack had other people there and invited him inside to spend the holiday with total strangers.

Cloud took the elevator down to the courtyard that connected the grunts' dorms to the SOLDIER apartments. As he'd suspected, the rain was unavoidable. The rain gathered in muddy puddles across the dirt path in between the two buildings, only one obstacle after another to Zack's room.

Did he remember to bring with him the note with Zack's apartment number? He didn't want to have to cross this path more times than absolutely necessary. Before he left the overhang for the rain, he moved the parcel around as he searched his pockets for the address.

_Great, I left it in my room_, he grunted to himself. But before he stepped back onto the elevator, he recalled scribbling it down on his palm. He opened his hand and gazed down at the letters, 2172, written and sightly smeared in blue ink. _I can do this,_ he told himself firmly. This wasn't even a big deal. It was a simple gift for a simple holiday. That was all.

He left his building for good, hiding the small package in his jacket and racing across the muddy pathway. He carefully avoided the ditches but in the end, it hadn't mattered. Soaked and muddy, he paused underneath the opposite overhang to the SOLDIER apartments and tried cleaning himself up a bit. His boots were slimy and tracking mud every which way, his jacket was drenched with the cold rain water, and he'd gotten a trail of mud up his jeans. He didn't want to look formal or anything, didn't want Zack to interpret it as anything other than a friendly gesture, but he also didn't want to spoil the presentation of the festive gift, either. It was bad enough he was giving _socks_ to a first-class SOLDIER, but doing it looking like he'd passed through hell before and back probably would make it much worse.

However, he couldn't just go back. He'd have to pass through the same exact mud. Maybe if he found the bathroom first or whatnot, cleaned up beforehand.

But, of course, each individual apartment had its own bathroom built in, and he ran into no such luck by the time he'd reached the twenty-first floor. Resigned to ringing the doorbell, thrusting the present out, and darting away, Cloud took off his jacket and wrung it out in a nearby planter before donning it again.

Then he inhaled deeply, demanding his nerves be calmed—but when did that ever work? His nerves were the whole reason why he'd never stepped up to become SOLDIER. He shook all of it out of his head. Just deliver the present and walk away. Or maybe he could just leave it in front of the door, but what if someone took it? Well, what was the loss? A pair of socks?

No, he'd come all the way over here to give it to Zack and tell him why he was giving it to him. And that was it. He could leave and never come out of his hole ever again, if need be.

Raising his hand in the air above the ringer, he held his breath. "I can do this," he whispered to himself and in a moment of desperateness, he jammed his finger onto the button and waited. There was no turning around now. Zack was coming.

It became clearer that he couldn't leave when Zack called out, "Hold on, be there in a sec!"

Maybe he was waiting for someone? Then that would really put him in an awkward situation.

Nevertheless, Zack flung the door open, smiling simply because he always smiled, and Cloud froze.

Raven-black hair, spiky in a total Zack Fair way, framed the smooth, tan skinned frame of his face. Zack eyes danced when he saw it was Cloud, no hint that he'd expected it to be anyone else. And it appeared he wasn't expecting anyone else because he wore pajama pants and a long sleeved shirt, hiding the clear, silky skin stretched across carefully honed muscles.

When Cloud didn't say anything, Zack reached up and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "You...wanna come in?"

Cloud shook his head. "Yeah—I mean, no. Well, um...It's just that I..."

The SOLDIER just laughed. "Come in, Strife. That's an order," he said, trying to imitate Cloud's captains. He opened the door wider and stepped aside politely, but the blond didn't budge. Zack waited, silently questioning.

Cloud bristled underneath the bluish-green-eyed gaze. Pointing to his boots and the tracks they'd made on the floor, he smiled ruefully. "I don't want to get your apartment dirty."

Zack grinned. "Yeah," was all he said before pointing inside, where he'd previously strewn trash and dirty clothes across furniture and the carpet. "It can't get any worse, BUT, if you insist, you can take them off."

The blond cleared his throat, his nerves stepping it up a notch. "It's only gonna take a few minutes."

"Just come in, Cloud, really. I don't bite." He paused and cocked his head to one side. "Well, not when I'm being nice."

Mirroring the grin half-heartedly, Cloud stepped inside and thrust the wrapped gift into Zack's belly while he bent down to unlace his boots. "I...um...celebrate it every year, you know, but I normally don't have...it's really a social thing, or family and close friend thing, and so I haven't...I just thought that since you've been real good to me lately, that I should show my gratitude by sharing this with you." Finally forcing them off his feet, he turned his gaze up to Zack, surprised by the silence.

It was a picture moment; Zack's face frozen in childish excitement. "For me? Like, really? That's gotta be the nicest thing...or one of the nicest things...anybody's done for me, especially here, so far away from home." He launched himself into Cloud, gathering him into a powerful hug and squeezed the life out of him, while Cloud, disoriented, tried to organize his thoughts.

"It's not like I bought you a diamond necklace or anything," he murmured, his face flashing scarlet. Turning his face away as they parted, he shut the front door and stepped onto the carpet toward the living room.

"No, but...a gift's a gift. And..." Zack followed Cloud around the apartment with his intense gaze, "look, I know how big of a thing the solstice is for small towns..." he chuckled, "but it's been so long that I...It really means a lot to get this. I just..." Zack's face deepened into a scowl. "I didn't get you anything, and now I feel horrible."

Cloud tried to shrug it off, sifting through the magazines on the coffee table while remaining upright. "It's a gift. You don't give one to receive one. I didn't expect anything. I really only wanted to give you it. It's really not that big of a deal." He hadn't expected Zack to take it like this. If he had known, he wouldn't even wrapped them. Perhaps he would have just given him his old socks or something.

Struck with an idea, Zack perked up. Holding out his hands as it to calm Cloud, he exclaimed, "Wait here! I've got it!" He dashed into his bedroom behind him and slammed the door shut, leaving Cloud turning redder and redder. How humiliating.

He waited for the dark haired SOLDIER to return, counting each minute as it ticked by, and made room on the old worn sofa covered in a wet towel and some filthy, muddy, clothes, still damp. After a few minutes, Zack exploded out of the room, waving about a box the size of Sephiroth's ego, with the biggest grin on his face that Cloud had yet to witness. "Okay, let's open the gifts at the same time."

Cloud declined with a shake of his head. "It's really nothing, Zack. They're socks," he said, forcing a laugh.

"Aww, you _spoiled_ it! Okay, it's okay; just open your present. I won't spoil it." He tossed it to Cloud, who, afraid for the fragility of it, lurched forward to catch it only to find it just about as light as a cardboard box. He tried offering it back, but Zack protested. "No, open it. I'm serious. And don't be alarmed by the size, cuz I couldn't find anything else to put it in and I just got a DVD player the other day..."

Cloud shook his head and bit his lip, but there was no arguing with Zack Fair when he had his mind set on something. He flipped open the top flap of the box and peered inside. Stuffing. "Um, there's just styrofoam in here."

"You actually have to look for it. I told you, this box was the only size I could find." Meanwhile, Zack tore into his present. He examined the gray and tan socks, then quickly tugged off his other socks before easing the new ones on happily.

Cloud could only smile and enjoy the moment as it lasted. Swooping his hand down into the stuffing, he dug around for whatever it was that Zack had given him on the fly. Confusion quickly took over his emotions when his hand hit nothing but more styrofoam until he touched something cold...small...different. He coiled his fingers around the smooth object and brought to the light.

Shimmering on his palm was a silver ring. Plain, but elegant all the same. He frowned for a millisecond before scoffing. "Um, I can't take this."

"No, really. I want you to take it." Zack shrugged. "That ring has a long history with me. It was my dad's, and he gave it me and told me it would always protect me, but I don't need protection; I'm Zack Fair." He laughed. "But really, maybe you could use it, and if not, silver looks good on you anyway."

"This isn't a fair trade-off," he protested.

"You said giving wasn't about receiving. I want you to have it."

"If you really wanted me to have it, then you would have actually wrapped it up and given it to me without my having giving you socks." He dropped the ring on the coffee table. "I'm sorry if I put you in an awkward situation." He turned his face away, the flush to his face returning. "I really don't expect anything back."

"I'm telling you. Take it. I want you to have it. You just made me realize how great our friendship is."

"Friendship?" Cloud echoed pathetically, internally cringing at his choice of wording.

"Yeah, we have something special, you and me. I should have remembered you would celebrate the solstice, and if I had remembered, I would have loved to share it with you. Granted, I might have found something else for you, but I actually think that ring suits you. I want you to have it. And I won't hear another word of dissent, understand, soldier?"

Cloud stood up. "I can't. I'm...gonna go. This just turned out really bad."

"No, no. You're not doing anything, right? So, let's order out and, um, watch some TV or something. Please, I didn't mean to scare you away, Cloud. You're like the coolest person I know, and that's really saying something." He paused while Cloud's face soured, and he interpreted as completely off from what Cloud was thinking. "Okay, I'm sorry. I guess I totally creeped you out just now. I'm not saying...I guess, maybe I am...okay, just stay."

Then he burst out laughing. "This is really awkward, and we can't leave it like this."

Cloud buried his head in his hands. "I think I'm getting a headache."

"I'll let you leave, but only if that's what you truly want. And you have to take the ring. I'm already wearing your socks, so you can't flake out on me now. It's a done deal as soon as you opened your present."

"Zack, do you even realize how ridiculous this all sounds? I'm not going to take that ring. It probably costs more than I'll ever make as a grunt in total."

"Actually, silver bands are pretty cheap. And I want you to have it because it means a lot to me to see you wearing it, and you can see it from anyway you want to, but it would make me feel good to see you wearing it."

Cloud cracked a smile. "That does sound pretty weird."

Zack laughed. "Yeah, it does, doesn't it?"

Cloud sat back down. "Okay, I'll stay as long as the tab's on you."

"Deal. So whaddya want?"

"Um, pizza?"

Zack rolled his eyes. "I expected you to be a little more traditional, but fine. Can you get chicken as a topping?"

Cloud tried to keep from laughing. "Um, I don't think so. No. Not really. I just like cheese."

"Whatever. I'm gonna go order, you just sit tight and don't go running away."

While the SOLDIER was ordering their dinner, Cloud bent over the table and examined the ring again. It had some engraving carved inside of it, but it wasn't in any language he knew. Without thinking, he slipped it on his finger. Loose, but not too loose. And it looked perfect against his pale skin, his thin, underdeveloped fingers. He couldn't take it, not in any way, but he did like it. He checked it out from another angle. Good, too. But no, it wasn't fair to Zack. And it had been his _father's_.

Zack returned to the living room shortly, beaming with such delight Cloud's stomach did a somersault in anticipation. He shook it off, trying to maintain a cool demeanor, even when Zack flopped onto the couch _very_ close beside him. Wordlessly, the raven-haired SOLDIER draped an arm across Cloud's shoulders as casually as if he they did it every day and flipped on the TV. "Anything you wanna see in particular?"

Cloud shrugged as faintly as possible, frightened if he brought too much attention to Zack's arm position that the older boy would jerk away, ashamed. "Don't have TV. It's a rare commodity, you know."

"Hn. Well, you'll just have to live with my choice, then. Oh, look," he said, coming to a channel playing something he recognized. "I love this movie. It's like about—wait, this is a good part." He paused to watch two men wrestling in a dramatic struggle for...what? Something Cloud couldn't detect in his innocence. Eventually, spitting out blood, the brunet thrust the other man to the floor in a cinematic move, all in slow motion, and muttered something about being the better brother. Cloud bowed his head to hide the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.

Thankfully, the movie was almost over by the time Zack had discovered it, so Cloud had to endure it for a short time as he ate the delivered pizza, and when it was painfully over, Zack leaned back in the plush pillows and heaved a heavy, contented sigh. "It moves me every time. I cried the first time I saw that."

"I found myself on the verge of tears, too," said Cloud, sniggering as he _casually_ sank back, too, resting the back of his head on Zack's outstretched arm. Neither of them moved from the contact, so Cloud felt fairly secure in his actions.

"Don't tease me. I wouldn't be me if I didn't care so much, right?"

Cloud conceded that much. "I guess."

"Good. So anything you have in mind?"

_Lots of things._ "Like what?"

"Do you wanna keep watching TV or do you wanna play a game or just talk?"

"Hn. Whatever."

Instead of pursuing the "well, what do you want to do?" argument, Zack fastened his arm tighter around Cloud's shoulder in a strictly platonic and manly way and remarked, "You haven't once told me to get my hands off you."

"I don't mind it." He paused, his stomach fluttering nervously for a second. _Just say it_, he instructed himself. "It feels sorta nice."

"Good. I thought so, too, but I didn't want to make ya feel awkward or anything."

Cloud shook his head. "This whole night as has been awkward."

"Well, then I suppose now's a good time as any."

"To...?"

Zack retracted his arm and let both hands fall limply into his lap. "There's something I've been wanting to tell you, but I wasn't really sure how to go about it." He flashed his pearly white teeth. "You scare easily, you know. But, yeah, so I wanted to tell you that I haven't just been thinking about us as friends. I'll admit, these past few weeks have gotten me so disoriented...with Genesis and now Angeal, but I wanted to tell you before I went on my next mission."

Cloud swallowed, his throat sudden filled with cotton balls.

"I think I'm in love with you." He lifted his eyes to match Cloud's gaze. "I know it sounds really creepy, since we've been just really good friends, but I just can't stop thinking about you, and I worry about you when you go out on missions," he sighed, "I've even been worrying about you just when you're on patrol. I actually follow you when you had to go into the more dangerous sectors."

The blond blinked.

"I've always been pretty direct and confident, but when it comes down to you...I'm nervous to say anything or do anything that would frighten you away. So I hope I didn't this time, but I just wanted you to know."

He left it at that. That ball was now in Cloud's court. Don't screw it up, don't screw it up. He turned sideways on the couch, tucking a leg underneath him and closed his eyes and leaned forward to press a hesitant kiss to Zack's chapped lips. When he pulled back, he opened his eyes to see Zack involuntarily licking his lips.

The touch itself had been gentle, hesitant in the shy way that Cloud embraced an action. It hadn't been demanding, like the touch of others he'd been with it had been. It was balanced…he didn't take more than he gave. And it was a simple touch.

Cloud had reached up and ghosted his fingers across Zack's jaw, tracing it from the earlobe down until the point of his jaw and then back, soliciting a moan or some sort of recognition, while he slowly crept over Zack's lap to innocently straddle him, but Zack could only stare down and drown in the endless depth of Cloud's ocean blue eyes. For a moment, none of this registered.

Finally Zack managed to murmur, "Don't do anything you'll regret, Cloud."

The blond didn't seem to acknowledge the warning because he continued his ministrations of ghost hands across jaw, lips, and cheek bone, finally planting a kiss on the corner of his mouth and pausing only enough to whisper in his ear, "I don't intend to."

Zack reached up as if to stop him again for another warning.

Cloud stopped his hand and pressed his warm palm against Zack's smooth face and waited. Zack eventually returned the gesture, soliciting a tremble and a ragged breath as the feeling of warmth flooded him. Why did it feel as if he could drown in the violent current of emotions when Zack touched him that way? What was it about the SOLDIER that made his heart throb when he was hurt or wounded or lost or even smiling brightly? Why…So many questions, and yet Zack still looked up at him, neither impatient nor demanding. It was as if he too fought his own battles within his head, yet no outward sign of it existed.

Zack arched up to meet his lips for a chaste peck on gossamer-fine lips, plump and red from constant gnawing. The touch was intoxicating and he sighed into Cloud's lips. He remained there, without kissing, only touching, for a minute before pulling back with a deep groan rupturing from his throat. He searched Cloud's face for some sort of indication whether it was all right to do more or not.

Cloud's face filled with a deep, rosy blush, his eyes closed, his head tilted back ever so slightly. As a few more seconds melted by, his eyes fluttered open again and he stared at Zack, confused. "What?"

Zack shook his head. "I don't know."

Cloud felt the urge to say something, though. So he said helplessly, "I don't know, either." All he knew was that he just wanted to enjoy that moment, the moment full of staring at a content, relaxed Zack underneath him. These powerful emotions that swept him over the edge like a tidal wave couldn't be explained rationally, only that it thrust him over the edge into a territory he'd never found before.

Zack took Cloud's momentary inward rant to adjust his seating arrangement and sit up straight and return with another kiss, though a bit more demanding. Cloud kissed back, pushing himself into Zack's firm presence while deepening the kiss. A certain thrill came out of kissing him and having him nibbling on much abused lips, demanding entrance to the world that was denied to everyone—except him…except those pricks in Shinra's employ. As if sharing the same thought, as though a prick of jealousy filled him, Zack pulled Cloud closer to him, more possessively, and kissed more fiercely.

Cloud didn't notice—nor would he have minded. He allowed Zack to hold him tightly against himself, because deep down that was what he wanted. He wanted to be held, he was starved for affection.

When Cloud's lips parted, Zack invaded with his tongue and he was met by the sweetish taste that could only be Zack's. Cloud wrapped his arms around his neck and tried to deepen their kiss even more, but reality warned Zack back. He extricated himself from Cloud's death grip with a rueful smile and shrugged one shoulder.

"Just one more question."

Cloud waited, eyelids slightly parted, displaying glossy eyes.

"Has this night gotten any better?"

* * *

_Present..._

Cloud groaned as reality came rushing back to his awareness, the pain of loss digging and digging into his heart. He'd woken up that next morning in Zack's empty bed only to find that ring gone. He'd been so mortified he'd lost something so important to Zack that he couldn't fess up or ask if he'd seen it go anywhere. And now, there was the ring, the socks, and the wrapping. Was that box the same one in which he'd received the silver band?

Who could have known about these? And why were they sending these things to him?

He growled to himself. He wasn't just about figure it out brooding by Zack's Buster sword, that was for sure. He probably upset Tifa by storming off so brashly, and the last thing he wanted to do was cause a ripple in their mending relationship.

Hopping back on Fenrir, he pointed it back towards Edge and pealed back home, where Tifa and the rest of the gang were probably already gathered.

By the time he arrived, there was a commotion inside the bar. Kicking the stand, he drew First Tsurugi and burst through the door into the bar to find Tifa darting here and there with bloody rags. He scanned the bar quickly, taking in the emptiness aside from the kids, Tifa, Vincent, and Red. His guests, they were bleeding.

Vincent looked up with red eyes and began to say something, but Cloud interrupted him. "Let me guess. A gigantic wolf?"

"Yes. What will we do?"

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the erratic updates. :(

Whew! -wipes sweat off brow- That was fairly difficult to write. Hopefully you didn't find the transitions awkward in parts, but transitions are definitely my weaknesses.

Anyway, there won't be many flashbacks because I'm more interested in the present, but it was necessary to explain the significance of the objects...and why it would upset Cloud to have them returned. Also, the juxtaposition of Cloud's ages was well done and well placed, if I say so myself.

Happy holidays!


	5. Chapter 5: Down Under

**Pieces of You**

**Chapter 5**

_Down Under_

"Yes. What will we do?"

Staring at the rip in Vincent's bicep, Cloud's heart sank. He needed to put the package mystery behind him and face the most pressing of matters; that wolf. Perhaps the two were connected—_Shinra—_but the only way to obtain any sort of answers would be first to confront them. And to take care of this terror that has now affected not just himself but his friends as well.

"Dunno," was all Cloud could reply at the moment.

"There's a strategy behind everything." Cloud looked around for Reeve Tuesti, the controller of Cait Sith, but couldn't find him. Tifa, momentarily, pointed to the PHS on the bar with the speaker-phone icon flashing red. "There has to be a strategy to defeat him. What is he like?"

"Fast."

Red, curled up in the corner of the bar underneath a table, shook himself out and came out. "Not so fast. Vincent and I hadn't encountered much trouble keeping pace with it, but I--"

"He's faster than _Fenrir_," protested Cloud, "and neither of you can keep up with Fenrir."

"Digression. The point is he's faster than anything we've seen so far," Vincent, who's eyes hadn't once left Cloud's face, cut in. "Perhaps," he added, tilting his head toward Red, "we can keep up with him or," he said gesturing to Cloud, "we cannot.

"He also has an voluminous reservoir of energy, not easily tiring," he continued easily.

"Even Sephiroth had his moments of fatigue, however isolated," added Red.

"He's huge and doesn't seem to have many weaknesses," Cloud put in.

"His face is a weakness, as far as I can tell. My bullets wouldn't piece the skin on the rest of his body, but they seem to stun him, if nothing else, when making contact with his face."

"He ran away when I thrust my sword into his chest, but he obviously didn't seem fatally wounded if he was in prime condition when you met him not long after."

Tifa looked up. "Fast healing suggests Mako."

"I would not put anything past Professor Hojo," Vincent said with a sigh.

"Do you really think we're going to spend the rest of our lives picking up the trash Hojo left lying around?" Cloud asked idly. If that was the case, he wanted nothing to do with it. He'd spent his whole adulthood weeding Shinra's garden and he was pretty much close to shutting down. Tifa asked him to move on, so he'd put it all in a locked box in the back of his mind and continued his delivery service, maintained a familial relationship with Denzel and Marlene and possibly Tifa. Damn it, he can't keep being yanked back into the web of Shinra's lies and fuck ups. It wasn't _fair_.

Was it so much to ask for a normal life? The one where he wasn't plagued with Zack's murder every night, with watching the Masamune piece through Aerith and hearing her take her last breath over and over again? The one where his mother hadn't died at Shinra's hand? The normal life where he would have married Tifa in Nibelheim and had a family with her, doing some small town business much like his own. He might have even been content with burning in that fire that consumed Nibelheim in the aftermath of Sephiroth's rage.

"You say that as if you haven't seen how much influence Shinra exercised over the world." Red padded in between the seats and sat beside Cloud, looking up into his face with the same somber gaze he had since they'd met in Hojo's laboratory. "I'd hate to suggest it, but it could be a monster created by Shinra that somehow escaped his cage."

Tifa returned to Vincent's side with sutures and a needle. "That's true," she ascertained. "Shinra has always been too cocky to make their creations with a stop button. This wouldn't be the first time their experiments turned against them. And I'm sure they'd be desperate to contain it before word got around that once again they were the responsible for death."

"Hold still," she muttered to Vincent as she went to work on his bloody arm. "Aerith was better at this than I am, so expect some pain."

"Pain and I are just about friends now," Vincent said, finally turning his gaze to Tifa and his arm.

Denzel brought a glass of water up to Cloud and offered it to him with a bummed smile. Cloud frowned at the image of blood all over Tifa's new bar, over his friends, and then shook it off. Well, if he wanted a normal life, he had to make normal decisions. He took the glass and said, "Did anything cool today, Denzel?" he asked him.

The boy, happy for even a little attention from the blond, grinned. "I'm joining--"

"Cloud, this hardly the time to be discussing a boy's day. I'm sure it just like any other boy's day. Now, what else can you tell me about the monster?" pushed Reeve.

Cloud snapped his neck around so he could glare at the PHS. "If you are so concerned about the wolf, why don't you come here and look at Vincent's wounds?"

Tifa paused. "Cloud, he's just trying to help."

"Right. He's trying so much that he took ten minutes to come here when we asked him to. He lives _down the street_."

"That's not fair, Cloud," Reeve defended himself. "I can't get directly involved, but I want to prevent the deaths of hundreds, because at the rate this wolf is going, it's going to do some destruction. Lots of it. So I'm calling and I'm going to help brainstorm with you."

"You do that," Cloud snapped. "Meanwhile, I'm going upstairs to put Marlene and Denzel to bed."

"Cloud! What's gotten into you?"

He frowned. "There's a wolf miles and miles away from here, and now it's okay that Denzel and Marlene stay up as late as they want?"

"I can see that my help is not wanted, then," Reeve said to no one in particular. "I'll call again when everyone's on the same page." Then he hung up.

Tifa forced the needle into Vincent's other hand with a huff and marched up to the blond. "Of course, I care. But that's not why you're walking away. What is wrong? Is it that ring? What are you not--?"

Anger flaring to new proportions, Cloud kicked over a nearby stool. "This has nothing to do with what was in that box, damn it, Tifa. I'm just so sick of being everyone else's toy. Let someone else deal with the fucking wolf."

Red laid flat on the floor, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, but Vincent wasn't fazed. "We can let someone else deal with it, but more will die in the process. We can do it. So let's just end it now."

"For what? So tomorrow we can wake up with some other monster to kill? I'm not looking forward to that."

Tifa folded her arms across her chest. "As far as I can see, the only thing you're looking forward to is seeing Zack rise from the dead."

Clod paused a split second before storming out of the room. The last thing he heard was Vincent say, "Let him go."

* * *

**Author's Note: **This particular chapter actually wasn't supposed to end here, but I wanted to throw you a bone to tell you I'm not even close to abandoning this story. It's wayyyyyy too awesome and mysterious to give up! There are just _so_ many things you don't even _know_ yet! Exciting! I have been busy, if that ever was an excuse, but I will do my very best to get my lazy butt out of this writer's block and update A.S.A.P.

On another note, I finally managed to wear green on St. Patrick's day and not get pinched (usually green eyes don't count...), and my mom made Irish Cream Brownies when it was IMPOSSIBLE for me to go home to have some. Urgh!!! I'm also CPR and First Aid certified for adults, infants, and children as of this very day! Don't know why I'm even talking about it...it doesn't have anything to do with what to come in **Pieces of You**!!!!


	6. Chapter 6: Journey Begins

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing; Square Enix does.

**Pieces of You**

**Chapter 6**

_Journey Begins_

Cloud sighed as he looked down at Denzel. There was the urge there; the urge to act like a family, like a father figure to the boy. To hug him and plant a kiss on chestnut brown hair, to assure him he'd be back—soon at that—and they would talk about this new youth group Denzel joined. It was a strong urge, really. It washed over him as emotions flashed across the boy's face faster than lightning. First fear, then anger, then quickly excitement, ultimately landing on sorrow.

"Do you really have to go?" Denzel asked with watering eyes. Maybe it was Cloud's own imagination that he saw tears welling up in those eyes; such large eyes, too, shiny beneath the overhead light bulb.

He almost reached out; he almost did it. He almost took the boy in his arms and comforted him the way he'd wanted to be comforted as a youth, but the ache of reopened wounds staved off rash behavior. He wouldn't baby Denzel; he wouldn't assure him everything would be peachy when there was good chance it wouldn't ever be! If someone had thrust upon him the brutal ways of life early on, perhaps he wouldn't be in such pain now. Perhaps he could have steeled himself to all this ugliness.

With that thought alone, he gave a curt nod. Glancing behind him at Tifa, who stood in the doorway fingering her leather gloves, he reigned in any sense of dread. He wished he had the right words to smooth out their parting; to ease his own fears at leaving Denzel and Marlene under someone else's protection. He wished he could say something that would erase the tears in the boy's eyes and still make the boy strong enough to face the world if and when it came to that.

He came up with nothing.

Finally, he backed toward the door with a firm pat on Denzel's head. "Be strong...for Marlene."

As Tifa followed him down the stairs she echoed flatly, "Be strong...?"

He tried to ignore the unasked question.

"Couldn't you have hugged him or...I don't know...done something that might make him feel better about you going off into danger?"

Argument never having been his forte, he kept any rebuttals to himself. He rolled one shoulder casually and chose to maintain his silence. The sooner he left, the sooner he wouldn't be able to stay.

Down in the bar, where it was silent and dead, Cloud dropped his duffel on one of the high tables and opened it.

Tifa, surprisingly said nothing more on the subject. Content, Cloud was sure, she'd been able to persuade the blond to join them on this excursion to defeat the beast, she couldn't berate his lack of profound sentiment or his limited expressions. Instead, Tifa made last minute adjustments to her bar, shuttering the windows, locking them down, checking the locks on the alcohol cabinets, all while Cloud dug through his clothes.

He paused, his hand firmly around a black sock without its mate. It was pretty ridiculous, really. That he would hesitate to go on this trip, this journey with an end point in view, this escapade which he knew deep down was his responsibility—his responsibility as the only one strong enough to defeat it—simply because someone had a sent a package with socks and a ring in it! It was entirely selfish to put the world on hold because he wanted to know what some sick fuck was thinking in teasing him with those objects.

Thinking Cloud was having doubts in his newly discovered resolve, Tifa quickly urged him forward. "Everyone is waiting on the ship already. We should leave soon."

He sighed. First he would help with the monster. _Then_ he would get to the bottom of the packages…_if_ they weren't part of the same problem. Stuffing the contents back into the duffel, Cloud reviewed his resolve.

If nothing else, he was saving the Marlenes and Denzels in the world. After all, hadn't the monster attacked two teenagers and a kid? He didn't mind saving those helpless to the evil forces in the world, the ones who hardly even knew they existed. It was for this reason that he was tagging along with the gang. That and because it was the _right_ thing to do. He hated when his conscience got to him.

"Is everything all right?" Tifa asked, her brows knit together in worry.

He shrugged. "I forgot something upstairs," he murmured and quickly turned and barreled up the stairs without thought. It wasn't until he'd reached the second floor landing that he'd realized that he was retrieving the socks and silver ring. Elmyra's voice rose from Denzel and Marlene's room as she set them about to clean up, and Cloud's heart sank. He hadn't seen Elmyra since Aerith's death, when he'd given the news to the grieving woman. He could tell, however, she was happy to have children around again.

He went down the hall quietly to his office, where he'd kept the things in a drawer, and he pulled them out. Once he had them in his hand, he felt ready to leave, finally. He headed back downstairs and stuffed the socks in his pocket and slipped the ring on his finger. "All right, I'm ready. Let's go."

Relief flooded Tifa's face. "I thought for a second you'd changed your mind."

"I'm ready," he repeated, this time a more firmly. He slung First Tsurugi across his back and picked up the bag, waiting for Tifa to grab her things. "Are Reno and Rude really coming?" he asked as they strode out into the deserted street. He asked this with a tinge of dread but mostly suspicion. Could it be Shinra manipulating Cloud's pain to accomplish self-centered goals?

"They want to help, too, Cloud," Tifa said gently. She kept pace with him easily, like back in the days of AVALANCHE, back when they had banded together for a common cause to defeat Sephiroth, back when Aerith still lived and breathed. They approached the outer limits of Edge, where the _Shera_ had landed and Cid stood out front with his arms folded across his chest, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"'Bout time. Damn near left without you!" he was hollering at them as they approached. He cursed and huffed and puffed his way up the ladder and into the airship without any more to say to them directly, leaving Tifa and Cloud alone once more.

Cloud released his death grip on his bag and eased it to the ground. He thought, for a brief moment, he might offer to carry her bag up the latter himself, that she could hoist herself up there without further hindrance, but he decided against it. Carrying her bag up a few rungs would be the least of the difficulties that lay ahead, though he doubted the beast would be more difficult than Sephiroth had been. A large group to surround the beast, a known weakness—they might pull this off in a day or two. Maybe not.

She fastened the bag's strap around her shoulder and half turned to him. "I'm really glad you're coming. I know how hard it is for you to leave behind...whatever it was that you found in the package, so I'm grateful. We couldn't do this without you." It was one of the sweeter moments he shared with Tifa that deepened his affection for her, moments like this.

"Let's just get this over with," he said gruffly.

She nodded firmly and pulled herself up.

/ - / - / - / - / - /

Truce Canyon, not really a canyon at all but a valley more like, was only a short distance from Edge on airship. According to Cid, they would have to land _Shera_ at the mouth of the valley because the city was nestled too deeply in the mountains for his airship to drop them off closer. Tifa estimated it would be a half a day to a whole day's walk to get to town, and Red posited they would encounter the beast somewhere within the forest as well.

"He came upon us a league or two from Truce," Red had claimed.

"We can assume, then," Cloud had concluded, "his den is somewhere between Kalm and Truce."

"More towards Truce," Rude and Reno had chimed in unison.

"So the more we walk, the more of a chance we have to kill it!" Yuffie exclaimed, but she didn't seem too thrilled.

As they waited for Cid to find "the right spot," Cloud watched the two Turks carefully. They, _of course_, knew more than they were willing to share, but neither seemed outwardly malicious toward him, nor interested in any packages. With narrowed eyes, he turned to Tifa.

She sat on an unused chair beside a control panel, kicking out her legs in her boredom. Yuffie was stuck in the bathroom for the duration of flying, and Tifa'd grown bored in conversation with Vincent and later Red.

"Tifa," he murmured. She looked up as if surprised she'd heard from him at all this trip. He held out his hand with the ring. "This was in one of those packages." Out of the corner of his eye, he kept watched on Reno and Rude. Neither seemed interested. They had paused in their conversation only when Cloud had finally acknowledged he, himself, was actually on the ship with the rest of the gang (he had made it very clear earlier he had nothing to discuss with them _but_ the wolf). Otherwise, they kept talking.

Meanwhile, Tifa had turned beet red. With her hands planted firmly on the chair underneath her bum, she seemed strained for words. "It's nice," she said finally.

He paused, wondering why she seemed so embarrassed. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, uh, nothing!" She smiled at him, awkwardly. "Do you know whose it is?"

Cloud wondered whether he should divulge the origins of the ring and socks. She had known there was something between him and Zack; he had spoken of it before. Yet something felt very private about how they became special and meaningful, about how they _belonged_ to Zack, and so he shrugged. "Dunno."

She shrugged one shoulder as if it was a bummer and then looked away, ending their mini-talk rather abruptly, leaving Cloud to wonder about Reno and Rude. They could have been the perpetrators, or the hands of the perpetrator, yet they didn't seem particularly interested in anything Cloud said or did. Furthermore, they had been genuinely surprised when Cloud had changed his mind and joined them with Tifa. Though he couldn't exonerate them just yet, he felt his suspicions start to lose water.

He thought about asking them directly if they had been involved or showing them Zack's ring to determine whether they'd even seen it before, but before he had an opportunity to come to a decision, Cid announced their arrival.

Yuffie was the first down the ladder before anyone else even had a chance to grab their gear. Cloud checked his bag and his sword, as if somehow they would have been altered in some way during the few hours they were on the ship and set off behind her.

On the ground, Tifa suggested they divide up. "We've got a lot of ground to cover," she started, "so it's best if we head to Truce separately."

"What _exactly_ are we looking for again?" Yuffie could hardly stand being in one place at a time, and now that she was out of the constantly shifting vessel, she wanted to _move_.

"Trust me; you won't miss it," Vincent assured her.

"I'm in _his_ group," she announced firmly, much to Vincent's dismay.

"We don't know _exactly_ what we're looking for," Tifa answered belatedly. "We should look for particularly large tracks or a den for a really large animal. At least if we know where he sleeps, we can spring a trap or something when we're more prepared."

"My group will head northeast and come into Truce from behind," said Cloud decisively. "I'll take Vincent, Tifa, and Reno with me. Red will head the second group northwest and also come in from behind, so we'll have circled the entire town. He'll take Yuffie, Cid, and Rude with him."

"You can't split Rude and me up! We're, like, partners."

"I don't want you together to plot," Cloud said flatly. "We already have enough problems as it is. Rude I trust out of my sight, but you…you stay with me." With that, Cloud gathered his group and started onwards.

/ - / - / - / - / -/

**Author's Note:** it's been a while, and this has been sitting on my computer for a while, so I thought I'd post it. I haven't given up, but life is just really weird right now. I'm not particularly busy, but my mind is just elsewhere. I'm terribly sorry for being the worst updater in the world!


	7. Chapter 7: Hinged

**Pieces of You**

**Chapter 7**

_Hinged_

_It just hurts. At first, all he can feel is fire. It burns through his bones, it sears across skin. It erupts like a volcano within him, from a specific source, his center, and leaking to each part of his body. So powerful, it's a fire burning with enough fuel to last a lifetime. He roars out. He's almost shocked at his own hoarse rumbling. His jaw clenches, his muscles flare. The fire heightens, but it almost feels good now. His muscles are working again; they constrict and loosen with each movement, and the fire only makes him faster._

_He lurches into the air, faster than lightning itself, and runs. It's always the instinct. Run, run, run, run. He only wants to move, to surge through the brush, leap over fallen trees. _

_He sees movement in the corner of his eye; a rabbit. As he pauses in his run for a little snack, the fire diminishes. A voice inside him encourages the hunt. Yes, yes, this is something. This is good. Hunt. He can almost imagine the feel of the blood as it gushes from a vein punctured by his fang, almost taste the rich, saltiness of the warm liquid oozing from the wound. _

_The rabbit takes in its surrounding with one eye, unwilling to budge first until it knows its path is clear of predators. _

_He doesn't even have to hunt; he doesn't have to crouch silently within the brush or conceal himself; he has more than enough speed to outrun the little rodent. But the hunt is a game; it builds up fire and releases tension. It feels good to rip the thing into shreds, to dig sharp fangs into the tough skin, soak himself in warm blood. _

_The rabbit moves again; it hops a few yards and looks around. _

_Now, he's almost completely behind the rabbit. He poises himself for pouncing, his front legs down and tense and ready to push himself into the air. He's silent, as always, and the rabbit doesn't even know he's around. He edges closer. And closer. He's ready, almost ready…but then…_

"…_to eat, that's all."_

_The rabbit dashes away, but he doesn't feel the need to chase him. There's another matter at hand; a far more challenging one—humans. _

_He raises his muzzle and sniffs the air for the meats. They smell of sweat and blood. One has a smell of sulfur on him; he must carry a…a gun. He sniffs again. There are two more. A female, another male. Silently, he leaps to his feet and draws closer to the humans._

"_He's off taking a piss or something," one was saying. "Let's just stop and rest a while all right?"_

_There's a silence, and then another male speaks. "I need to clean up my wounds. My stitches have come undone."_

_His nostrils twitch as the meat's wound is unwrapped and bared. The blood is fresh, warm. His mouth waters; a hunger develops in his belly, his stomach rumbles._

_He lowers himself to the ground, tenses. It's that meat with the scarlet clothing that disappeared. He sniffs again for the dog; if it's just these measly humans, it will be easy to kill them, dig into the soft, meaty flesh. The female especially. But he doesn't detect the domesticated meat. _

_Instead—he jerks back suddenly. He knows that scent too. It's so familiar. It strikes fear into him, fear like no fear he's ever experienced. His body rages; it's as if that scent takes away his mind; it's a drug. He whole body sways, and in a fit of rage, he thrusts himself forward. He _will_ have that meat._

_He plows right over the female meat. It yelps as he sends it flying backwards, but it recovers quickly. The injured meat, clad in crimson, has it shiny metal stick in hand, pointed. It fires, and it meets flesh. He howls and dodges the next bout of bullets. The female meat has rolled to its feet and comes at him with its foot. He ducks and nips at it. By luck or chance, it evades his maw._

_The meat with the gun hails him with more bullets and the meat with the red fur rushes him with a silver stick. They are all fast, but their movement is disconnected, unlike the red-clad meat and its domesticated creature had been previously. They clearly don't hunt together normally. He uses this to his advantage._

_The red-clad meat disappears in a cloud of red and reappears face-to-face, shooting again._

_They all seem to plunge toward his face. He rolls to the side, evading them. They are fun, but he wants the blond, the blond that causes madness to flow through his veins. He wants to gnaw on its bones, savor the flesh._

_He sees the redhead and the female meat almost collide; he bares his teeth at them, as if grinning. He launches himself into the air over their heads, but the red-clad meat is persistent. It materializes in front of him. Its shiny firestick, its gun, glints in the afternoon sun, catching a stray beam. It points and fires._

_He roars, his warning echoing through the canopies, and flows toward the meat, his maw wide open. He takes the red-clad meat down and roars again. Without further ado, he clamps down on the bleeding shoulder, the blood oozing onto his tongue. But he doesn't get any time to savor the taste; the other meats attack, and so he jumps off and runs toward the blond's scent. It gets closer and closer._

_The meats run after him, but they are much too slow._

_He skids to a stop at the sight of the blond, crouching over a creature of the forest. Its shiny sword is soaked in blood and is stuck in the ground beside them. He takes a step forward. The blond is unsuspecting. Its head is down, but he makes a mistake, then. The madness that has infected his veins has made him mindless. He steps on a branch; it cracks under his paw._

_The blond is up and holding its weapon. Without its moving wheels, it is not fast enough, but it is nonetheless ready for a challenge._

_He doesn't attack; he simply stares. And finally, when he hears the other meats' voices drawing nearer, he backs away and runs off into the forest. The fire that drives him to hunt has receded. He's just tired now. He wants to sleep; he wants to forget the blood of the blood, how it tasted on his tongue. He wants to forget the rage he feels whenever he catches the scent._

/ - / - / - / - /

Red hopped from a boulder and examined the large footprints Yuffie, surprisingly, found. He lowered his head enough to get a whiff and confirmed it aloud. "It's his," he told the rest of the group.

"That mean he's close?" Yuffie eyed her surroundings more closely, dreading the moment of contact.

"The prints aren't fresh. I can't smell him in the air, either." Red took a few steps and checked the next set of footprints. They disappeared after a few more sets into the wilderness, the intense scent completely masked. It was annoying but not particularly surprising. There was something simply odd about this enemy, something eerie and not encountered before.

Rude, who had stood above him to watch every move, folded his arms across his chest with a grunt but offered no sense of the directions of his thoughts. Red could detect no fear on this human, no uneasiness or tension as he did with all his companions—Cloud emanating the most anxiety and Reno and Rude…nothing. He didn't like it.

"We 'bout done here, yet? Shit. I'm getting eating alive in this jungle!" Cid, who radiated unease since he'd stepped foot off his ship, wouldn't stop complaining. He and Yuffie would take turns complaining, then go off on each other to the point where Red almost wanted an attack from the wolf.

"We'll get there before nightfall," Red assured him. "But—" A vibration in the air cut him off. Very faint at first. His ear twitched. Louder.

"Um, but what?" prompted Yuffie.

"Shhh." He stepped toward the sound, straining to isolate it from the birds and insects and life of the forest. It grew louder, suddenly. Elongated and painful. His body tensed, his baser instincts warmed his blood and prepared him for action. It was a cry of a very large creature—a wolf. _The_ wolf.

Red sprang forward before his thoughts processed.

"Hey! Waiiiit! Where're you goin'?" Yuffie and the others followed at a dead run.

Fresh blood. It wasn't, possibly, the best moment to engage the creature, but something was wrong. He could feel that. It permeated the air, and it came from the western side, Cloud's group's side. He bared his teeth. He needed to be sure that they were safe.

**Author's Note:** short, abrupt, but at least it's an update, right? I really love the wolf's p.o.v. :)


End file.
